Attractive arrow head displays on the restaurant ceiling. It was a small restaurant and not much wall space.....
Com sit for awhile and be glad. But bring your bug spray to be even happier.
This was the lake that Mitch's campground was on. She liked her electric and her AC and her views when she walked down to the lake.
Mitch and I took a day trip down to see Crater Lake National Park. With the wild fires that had started from lighten strikes the air was a bit hazy. On Friday night the rangers came through Mitch's campground and told everyone that they needed to hook up and be ready to evacuate if needed. Many pulled out and went home. Mitch had a glass of wine and went to bed. She and everyone else were still there on Saturday morning.
If you ever wonder if those pictures of Hotshot fireman with beautiful abs is accurate, Mitch reports those calendars are real. On her walk down the road to meet me Saturday morning she saw one of the young men take his shirt off. The rest of the day she was getting whip lash everything we saw the fire crews and their trucks. Nope they were already dressed in their gear. But it is good to keep ones dreams live.
There was some debate. We know that you aren't suppose to pick up rocks and plants in National Parks but what about snow ball?
I like their fencing.
And some folks hike up to the peaks for the views.
Two rangers were on their way up. Since we have both been reading Nevada Barr novels, watching rangers takes on new imaginations.
Where the deer and the antelope play..... Okay, eat.
Clouds floating above blue, blue waters......
The lodge is an older one. Like the bark left on the pillars and walls?
Think of how many tires folks must have gone through to make it a vacation destination back in 1920's.
We had lunch at a restaurant on Diamond Lake and watch everyone getting ready for a fishing derby. Made me even happier that I hadn't moved down to one of the NF parks on the lake. Way too may people.
And a few boats.
And ice cream....
Watching the fire still smoldering across from Mitch's area.
But I managed to make it back to my spot of conditioned air. Just walk on down by the water and feel the breeze lifting off the cold creek.
Bring a book.
And she said she hadn't ridden in over 40 years. I was going to ride by myself but she is an adventurous sort and there were cowboys involved. The trail rides have been operated by Wayne Watson since 1969. The young girl grooming in back was a granddaughter. The promised to pick out a horse with short legs so Mitch won't have as far to fall.
That green stretch is what passes as a meadow in the high country.
Our Cowboy Bob is Wayne's son.
The horses taking a breather at the half way point.
A new version of the horse whisperer....
And, no, Mitch did not want to think about how dusty it might get trailing a herd of cows across the prairie....this was dusty enough.
Small mountain creeks.
Since we were up high enough the pines were thinned out and there were many dead trees littering the landscape. Not what either of us expected. Again we were not too far from the Pacific Crest Trail and I decided that riding through that area was at least better that hiking through.
